


Salami, Tomato, and Mayo on Rye

by sunspot (unavoidedcrisis)



Category: Leverage
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Demons, Multi, Sandwiches, Store Owners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-06 06:12:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15880176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unavoidedcrisis/pseuds/sunspot
Summary: A desperate patron comes into the shop looking for help after he picks up one of Hardison's terrible bargain books. Hardison feels obligated to help, Eliot thinks the man should be left to clean up his own mess, and Parker just wants something to eat.





	Salami, Tomato, and Mayo on Rye

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kereia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kereia/gifts).



There's something indescribable about being alone on a city street when it's dark and rainy, Parker thinks. A decided feeling of 'apart,' especially when she can hear distant traffic, muffled mostly by the thick feeling of damp in the air. There are people everywhere in the city, but all of them are far away now. They're behind closed doors and heavy curtains, not peeking into the street for a glimpse of a slight figure with a bag full of herbs, strolling through the rain and not seeming to mind.

She rounds the corner, still contemplating, and sees the lights shining through the storefront window. The store closes at eight, and it's now well past midnight. Parker tightens her grip on the shoulder strap of her bag and goes up the alley to the back door.

Hardison and Eliot are in the storeroom at the bottom of the stairs, having a fast, whispered discussion.

"There's no way --"

"We pretty much have to, though, right?"

"Hardison --"

Parker hangs her satchel on the newel post and slides into their huddle. Hardison gives her a peck on the cheek before turning back to Eliot. "Parker agrees with me, don't you?"

"Usually," she allows. "Why are all the lights on and what am I agreeing to?"

"Some guy came banging against the glass while we were closing up," Eliot says.

Hardison cuts in, waving a hand with a pointed look to Parker. "I think he looks familiar."

"Even if he is, he says he accidentally summoned a demon."

Parker just shrugs. There's nothing any of them are able to do about that. They're a retail establishment, with books, herbs, supplies, and very little practical experience between them. "And?"

"And… don't you think that's something maybe we should attend to, before the word gets out and we're run out of town for being no-good scoundrels?" 

"Absolutely not," Eliot says. "We're not responsible for every idiot that comes through the shop, Hardison."

Parker leaves them to bicker and ducks through the swinging doors into the shop. There's a man at the counter, leaning on it with one hand and scrolling through something on his phone in the other. Parker recognizes him immediately.

"What did I tell you?"

He looks up, wide eyed, and jams his phone in his jacket pocket. "I'm sorry."

"I told you that you didn't want that book."

This guy had been in last Thursday when Parker was alone in the shop. He didn't want help, and he ignored her when she glared, and then slipped two bundles of New Moon Invocation Helper and an empty glass vial into his pockets in the most clumsy, insulting way possible. She let that slide, waiting to see if he'd move onto something higher value, but then he paid $2.99 for a falling-apart old ledger that was on Hardison's 'sad misfit, but someone might still love it' table.

"It's falling apart and barely legible. My boyfriend's only keeping it around because the cover has a horse on it," she'd said to him, giving away a little too much insight into Hardison's mind. "If you buy it, it's just encouraging him to keep more bargain store clutter around."

"Demonology has always been a passion," he'd replied, not meeting her eyes.

Parker had felt an alarm bell then, but she had chalked it up to many social situations with people giving her alarm bells, and loathed that Eliot needed groceries and Hardison went to a Craigslist pickup at the same time --

("I thought you said they sold Tibetan prayer gongs on Amazon," Eliot said, spooning noodles onto Hardison plate.

Hardison took a mouthful and nodded appreciatively. "Make this again, for sure. And yeah, we could get those, but this one's _old_."

Parker made a mental note that old is basically as good as having a horse on it, for future reference, before starting on her own plate.)

\-- and she drew the short straw to stay at the store alone.

"You've got to help me, please," he says. "I made a huge mistake."

A hundred alarm bells. "Guys?"

Hardison and Eliot come into the shop and flank her, two sets of arms crossed and both looking stony, so she figures they must have to a compromise.

"I accidentally summoned a demon," the man says, by way of explanation.

It's not the same as forgetting to flip the laundry, or leaving a glass of water somewhere where Eliot might knock it down during his tai chi. Not a regular accident.

"We're not typically in the business of demon-hunting, but you're stuck and we'd like to help," Hardison says.

"You got yourself into this." Eliot's gaze is straight on, unwavering. It's his serious face.

"I _really_ need help," the accidental demon summoner says.

They're all looking at her, waiting for her to make the final pronouncement. She's used to it. She breaks a lot of ties, both in the shop and in their apartment above the shop.

The clock strikes one. It's getting very late indeed.

"The sandwich place on Raymond Street is still open until two on weeknights, isn't it?" she asks.

Their new demon-summoning shoplifter friend, Jason, buys them all sandwiches and walks them back to his apartment on the other side of the city. "I really appreciate this," he says for the sixth time as they take the stairs to the third floor.

Parker wants to remind him again that not one of them has ever even seen a demon, let alone banished one.

"It's probably just like summoning one, but in reverse," Hardison says, when they stop outside the front door for a strategy session.

Parker sneaks a spicy banana pepper off his sandwich. "Maybe," she says, though she personally thinks it'll be a lot trickier.

"Do you even know the name of the demon you summoned?" Eliot asks. Not even a very nice corned beef on rye is soothing his worries, Parker can tell. She smoothes her hand down his arm.

Jason hasn't even opened the paper on his hoagie yet. "Malvoth," he says. The name sounds like a shuddering whisper coming from his lips, and Parker immediately feels a sense of dread from inside her (and it's not coming from the stolen hot peppers). Eliot's carrying their bag of supplies, and he opens it, his mouth tightening into a line.

Frankincense and copal for cleansing come out first, handed around the circle. A South American gods-eye and a crystal stoppered glass vial are next, which he passes to Jason with something bordering on a dirty look. Eliot keeps the bell for himself.

"Open the windows right away, then light the incense and sage and I'll ring the bell. We'll say a few words; Jason, tell the demon in a very clear voice to get out. Don't let it talk back to you. Everyone got it?"

Jason unlocks the door and the plan goes straight to hell, figuratively.

* * *

Malvoth is bent out of shape that they didn't bring an extra sandwich and refuses to even acknowledge them until Jason gets up and leaves his unattended.

"Hey, he summoned me," Malvoth says around a mouthful of salami. Its mouth opens vertically as well as horizontally, and teeth seem to come from every direction with spittle and bits of masticated bread turning the rough voice wet sounding. Fascinating and terrifying at once to watch, Parker thinks.

Hardison is shrinking back into the couch cushions with his eyes wie and bottom lip caught in his teeth. Entirely aghast, and out of his element. He's the business end of their business, dealing with suppliers and inventory and balancing the books. Any actual magic is left for Parker and Eliot, and this, an actual demon sprawled on some guy's chaise lounger munching on sandwiches and pickles from their favourite deli is quite obviously out of his wheelhouse.

Eliot, on the other hand, is showing nothing on his face. Parker tries to take his hand, a little tactile reminder that they're in this together, but his fist is clenched at his side. She slides her fingers across his wrist instead, letting her knee touch his where they're next to each other on the couch. 

Jason comes back from the bathroom and hisses for Parker's attention. Malvoth looks at them with all four of its eyes, which move independently of each other most of the time. "Go ahead," it says, evidently not fazed by the tension in the room while it's still eating.

"Why haven't you banished it yet?"

"Are you joking?" Eliot says, also not fazed and not even bothering to keep his voice down. "We deal with energies, with auras. _Sometimes_ with spirits. This is a full physical entity. What are we supposed to do, flush it down the drain like a dead goldfish?"

"You fucked up, Jason," says Malvoth. Parker thinks it's smiling. Smirking, maybe? It's definitely doing something freaky with it's mouth-bits.

"Really," says Eliot. He nods curtly, then pauses and looks down at his knees. Probably wondering where he went wrong that he's agreeing with a demon. A demon who has no table manners.

"This tastes really good," Malvoth says, pulling a chunk of chewed food from between its teeth. "What's the sauce? I don't think I've had it before."

"You get a lot of sandwiches in Hell, normally?" Hardison gets the whole question out without his voice cracking, though it wavers for a second.

"I'm not from Hell. Been there a few times though. I'm from the Night Ether. Ever heard of it?"

"Demon realm, separate plane of existence, but connected to ours," Jason supplies. "And it's mayo. Mayonnaise. Made of, um, oil. And eggs."

"Love eggs," it says, putting the lump back in it's mouths. "Have any of you ever had a unicorn egg?"

It's enough to get Hardison to momentarily forget that he's freaking out. He leans forward on the couch, astonishment pulling at the corners of his mouth. "A unicorn -- ? Really?"

"Just fucking with you. We mostly just have turkey eggs. Wild turkeys are the closest thing to demons you people have on your plane." Malvoth wipes its mouth on the back of its… forelimb and rearranges itself on the chaise.

"Not swans? Or Canadian geese?" Eliot got chased by geese once, trying to pick comfrey in a creek bed.

"Oh, wait, yeah, geese are full-blood demons, actually."

Parker knew it all along.

"So, are you going to try and banish me, or what?"

There's a relieved sigh from Jason and a lot of exchanged glances between Parker and her boyfriends. "Do you think it would work?" Parker asks after a moment.

They all flinch back from the grating, dissonant laugh the demon lets out. It goes on longer than it needs to, slapping its clawed hand (well, it looks like a hand insofar as it's flat on one side and there's… is 'protuberances' the right word?) against the back of the chair. "No," Malvoth finally says. "Not at all. Last time someone summoned me, it took eight warlocks and three sacrifices to put me away again."

"Seventeen eighty-three," Jason tells them. "Reports vary on how many died."

"I want to like you, I do," Hardison says. "But you're _seriously_ making it hard, man. Just… why? Why would you think summoning a demon was a good idea?"

"Ooooh," Malvoth says, clacking its claws together. "Tell them, Jason."

"I uh… kind of told my girlfriend's parents I'd help them move. But I don't have a lot of upper body strength and they have this baby grand piano…"

"You summoned a demon to _help you move_?" Eliot actually rises off the couch. He paces to the front door and back. "Seriously? Are you kidding?" He gets that breathless, incredulous sound he normals reserves for when Hardison brings home a crate of mouldy books from a dead lady's attic or declares he doesn't want to try dinner because it looks 'weird.'

"I thought with like, a hoodie and a hat…"

"I love hats," Malvoth says.

Parker sighs and rolls her shoulders. She doesn't mind challenges, especially now that she's fed. "I think I have a plan…"

* * *

In the end, it only costs them the promise of a sandwich a week and a fridge stocked with mayonnaise.

Hardison Googles the number for a reputable moving company for Jason and they leave him with that.

Malvoth lives in the spare room behind the shop, and as long as it doesn't wander onto the floor eating spoonfuls of mayo when clients are in, it's actually pretty helpful. It knows so much history and has some interesting opinions about invocation magic. With its direction, they've even managed to start a little side business for exorcisms and wardings.

And, contrary to what it told Jason, it always carries and unloads boxes on shipment day.

**Author's Note:**

> It got a little cracky on me. Happy AU Exchange, kereia <3 Thanks and yays to keita52 for the readthrough.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Salami, Tomato, and Mayo on Rye](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18453107) by [ofjustimagine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofjustimagine/pseuds/ofjustimagine)




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